


Trina Weisenbachfeld Tries Not to Care (And Fails)

by flibbertygigget



Series: Family Charades 'Verse [2]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Bashing, Gen, Internalized Victim Blaming, Period-Typical Homophobia, Prostitution, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 06:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: Trina is perfectly happy with her life. She has a husband and son who she adores, and she only has to think about Whizzer Brown and her failed marriage about once a week. An evening phone call and a very stubborn Jason are about to change that.Or: Trina tries not to care. She really,reallytries.





	Trina Weisenbachfeld Tries Not to Care (And Fails)

**Author's Note:**

> The rape/non-con and violence are all off-screen, but they are discussed at length, so I felt that the warnings were appropriate. This is sort of a AU/What-If of my other fic "The Family Charades of Whizzer Brown, Semi-Professional Sugar Baby," but it should still be comprehensible without reading that one.

Trina’s spending a quiet Thursday evening reading when the phone rings. She’s about to pick it up, but then Jason yells down from his room that he’s got it. She sighs and slumps back in the armchair, paperback romance novel no longer able to hold her interest. There was a time when she would have given anything for Jason to be so excited about a telephone call, but each call he takes reminds her that her baby is growing up. She doesn’t feel ready for that, not yet.

Thank God she has Mendel. Mendel, who’s kind and sweet and guileless. Mendel, who takes every fucked-up aspect of their lives into stride. Mendel, who - she checks her watch - is probably going to be walking through the door any moment.

“Hey, Mom.” She looks up to see Jason at the top of the stairs, looking pale and shaken.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Mom, is Mendel back yet?” She shakes her head. Jason mutters something under his breath, something that sounds almost like “shit, Whizzer’s gonna kill me.” But that can’t be right. Whizzer’s gone and never coming back.

“Mom,” Jason says, “I’m going to have to ask you to do something weird.”

“What is it?”

“Could you take me downtown? Like, now?” Trina hesitates. Outside, night has already fallen, and she has no desire to go down to where there’s so much crime, especially not with her son. “There’s a payphone. It’s, uh, it’s on Bleeker and West 10th.”

“Jason,” Trina says slowly, “is this about your father?”

“No! Look, I wouldn’t ask you if this wasn’t important. There’s a guy there, one of my friends, and he’s in trouble. Bad trouble.”

“Jason…” Somewhere deep down, Trina knows where this is going. “Let me get my keys.” She’s surprised when Jason barrels into her, hugging her more tightly than he has in years.

“Thanks, Mom,” he says.

* * *

Bleeker and West 10th is worse than she’d imagined.

She’s never been this far south in the city, not in more than passing. Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel as she drives slowly past the graffiti-covered grates and broken windows. If they’re here much longer, someone’s going to jump them, and then Jason will be murdered and she’ll probably be raped and then murdered. She bites her lip and glances over to her right. Jason’s in the passenger seat, looking far less concerned about their surroundings than he should despite the way that he’s staring intensely out the window.

“Stop, Mom! Stop!” he suddenly yells. Trina slams on the breaks, throwing out an arm to keep Jason from hitting the dash. In a flash Jason’s out the door, running towards a phone booth that’s nothing more than a rusting metal frame. Trina parks the car and follows him, clutching her keys so that they poke from her fist. At first, she’s confused, unsure of why Jason told her to stop here. Then her stomach pitches and she feels like she’s going to throw up.

She’d thought it was just a pile of trash. It isn’t. It’s so much worse.

“Whizzer. Whizzer, hey, wake up. I’m here.” The _thing_ stirs, moans, opens its eyes, and Trina can’t deny the truth any longer.

“Jason?” Her ex-husband’s ex-lover’s breath catches, and then he starts coughing. They’re deep, hacking coughs, and he clutches at his ribs as though in pain. “Jason… how..?”

“You called me, remember?” The man shakes his head. “Well, you did, and I’m here now. We just gotta get you to the hospital, and then you’ll be alright.”

“No… no hospital.”

“Whizzer-”

“ _No_.” The force of the word sets him coughing again. Trina steps forward helplessly, and the man seems to notice her for the first time. “Trina? R… Really? Of all the-”

“Well, I wasn’t going to take the bus,” Jason says. “Come on. We need to get you home at least.”

“Home?” Trina says, somehow finding her voice again. “Who said anything about taking _him_ in?” Jason glares at her.

“Not… not yours,” Whizzer says. “Mine. M… Motel, Jason knows where…”

“And I am going to get that story out of you later, believe me,” Trina snaps at her son. Jason doesn’t look cowed in the least.

“Come on, Whizzer,” he says instead. “The car’s right there. I’ll help you.” Whizzer squeezes his eyes shut as Jason struggles to get him to his feet. Trina twitches at the way the man tries and fails to stifle a sob, but she won’t help. She _won’t_. This is the asshole that ruined her marriage, and she wouldn’t spit on him if he were on fire.

This, she thinks, might be worse than fire.

Eventually, Jason and Whizzer make it to the car. She opens the back door, and Jason heaves her ex-husband’s ex-lover inside. Then, to her surprise, he goes in the back as well. He hasn’t gone in the back willingly since she finally let him sit in the passenger seat when he turned eleven. Her jaw clenches. She wants to argue, but there’s nothing she can say without sounding unbelievably petty.

When she makes the mistake of glancing in the rearview mirror, she sees that Jason has Whizzer’s head in his lap and almost runs up on the curb. She resolves to keep her eyes on the road from then on. There’s nothing she can do to block out her son’s conversation, though, and the things she hears make her blood pressure shoot upward.

“You should at least - turn here, Mom - You should at least let me call Dr. Charlotte. She’s Dad’s neighbor and apparently very good. Plus, she’s a lesbian, so you wouldn’t have to worry about, well, _that_.”

“Don’t… Don’t call Marvin.”

“I won’t. I have Dr. Charlotte’s number-”

“No.”

“You have to see _someone_.” A pause. “It’s either her or an ambulance.”

“It can’t be _that_ bad,” Trina snaps.

“You’ve barely even looked at him! Next right.” Trina takes the corner more violently than necessary, only to feel her stomach clench at Whizzer’s grunt of pain. God, she really _is_ petty. “You were acting like your ribs were-”

“Just… Just bruised. I’m fine.”

“Stop being a dumbass.”

“Language,” Trina says, but it’s half-hearted at best. She’s starting to worry.

Jason guides them to a motel that looks like something out of a horror movie. Despite Whizzer’s protests, Jason insists on helping him to his room. Trina just hopes that the car isn’t broken into while they’re gone. When they reach the door, Whizzer pats one of his pockets before swearing under his breath.

“What’s wrong now?” Trina says exasperatedly.

“Keys. I must’ve dropped them when…” Whizzer shakes his head and tries to straighten up. “Just a sec.” He grabs the door handle and jerks it upward, popping the lock. Trina can’t help the instinctive jolt of alarm at how easy it would be to break in.

Whizzer flicks on the light (a bare bulb) before collapsing on the bed with a grunt. Trina bites the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping at her first good look at the man since picking him up. He’s obviously been beaten, and badly. The left side of his face is horribly bruised and swollen and _bloody_ , as though someone had slammed it against the pavement multiple times. His clothing, usually immaculate, is torn and dirty, and she can see more bruises on his half-uncovered chest. One of his shoes is missing, as is his belt.

“Christ, what happened to you?” she says at last. Whizzer glances over at Jason.

“I’m not leaving,” Jason says.

“Fine. I… I was turning tricks, and there was this guy. I thought he was a client. Turns out that he and a couple of his buddies wanted to rough up a queer.”

“You have to tell the police,” Jason says. Trina glances over at him. Her son is quivering in anger, hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Whizzer gives a harsh, painful sounding laugh.

“And what? Get arrested for soliciting again?” Jason’s eyes are full of tears, and something in Whizzer’s face softens. “Hey, I’ll be okay.”

“I’m calling Dr. Charlotte.” Trina opens her mouth to argue, but then she closes it again without saying a word. No matter what he says, Whizzer looks awful and probably needs a doctor. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if her pettiness finished what the assholes who jumped him had started.

* * *

Dr. Charlotte, the lesbian, ends up being a tall black woman in killer heels. She shoos Trina and Jason from the motel room, citing doctor-patient confidentiality. Trina doesn’t miss how grateful Whizzer looks, which makes her think that the younger man must be worse off than he’s let on. But she could never have guessed what Dr. Charlotte reveals once she’s finished her examination and Jason’s bounded back into Whizzer’s room.

“Well?” Trina says. The other woman sighs.

“Physically, he’ll be fine. Very sore for a while, and someone will have to keep an eye on that concussion, but thankfully there’s no sign of broken bones or internal bleeding.”

“Oh,” Trina says. “That’s good, then.” Dr. Charlotte purses her lips.

“I’m more worried about his mental state.” She hesitates. “He told me that I could tell you what I had to, but this is… difficult. I know you care for him.”

“Care? I don’t care.” Dr. Charlotte raises an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Alright, you don’t care,” she says. “It’s still difficult.” She takes a deep breath. “Trina, he was raped.” Trina’s stomach clenches.

“What?” she says. “But how? I mean,” she tries to collect herself, “he said that they beat him because he’s, well, you know-”

“Gay?” Trina nods. “Most of the time, rape isn’t about attraction. It’s about power, and that was one way they felt they could have power over him.” Dr. Charlotte rubs her eyes, looking exhausted. “At the moment, he’s actively ignoring it, but he’s going to have to deal with what happened eventually. That’s why I don’t want him to be alone, especially not tonight.”

“You think he might do something - something drastic?”

“I think we can’t be too careful,” Dr. Charlotte says. “Look, I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind taking him in, at least for the night? I’d let him take Cordelia’s and my spare room, but we live next door to Marvin and that could get… messy.” Trina is seething. Whizzer was supposed to be gone, not calling her son and taking her spare bedroom and ruining her life _again_. She hadn’t signed up for this, hell no. But then she remembers the broken windows and the dark alleyways and the way that the door can be popped open with barely a thought, and she feels an unexpected shiver of fear run through her.

“Fine,” she snaps. “Fine, I’ll take him for the night. But tonight only.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Charlotte says. She goes back into the motel room, and Trina follows her. Jason’s sitting on the bed next to Whizzer, counting out bills on the yellowing bedspread.

“... so it’s ten bucks a night, which means I have enough for-”

“Like three weeks.”

“Like three weeks, but keep in mind that I have to eat, and I can’t rely on clients buying for me until these damn bruises go down.”

“I could-”

“No. Seriously, kiddo, you’ve done enough. Besides, I have a feeling that Trina’s not going to be letting you out of her sight for a while.”

“Screw that. I’ll just come here instead of Dad’s-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Dr. Charlotte says, “but we have a few things we need to discuss.” Jason’s head jerks up guiltily, and Trina gives him her best “we’ll talk about this later, young man” glare. Whizzer gives them a hollow little grin.

“Alright. What’s up?”

“I’ve been discussing your situation with Trina, and we decided it would be best if you took her spare room for the night.”

“That really isn’t necessary,” Whizzer says.

“We just want to make sure-”

“I thought you said I was fine.”

“As far as I can tell, you are, but I’d rather be safe than-”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that this is a goddamn death trap,” Trina snaps. “Seriously, anyone could break in here. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I’ve been here almost a year and it’s been fine.”

“Well, I don’t like it. You’re in no condition to fight off a robber or a-” Or a rapist. Damn it. The area’s bad enough, more than bad enough for that to be a concern. Why hadn’t she realized that before?

“Come on, no one’s going to try and rob me. I’m not worth it.” But for the first time Whizzer actually looks nervous. Money, Trina thinks sourly, it’s always about money with him.

“Aren’t there a bunch of crackheads here?” Jason says. “They’d probably want to steal from you.”

“They’re too strung out to open the door,” Whizzer says dismissively.

“But what if-”

“ _Jason_.” Whizzer glances over at Trina, and suddenly she understands. “I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect your mother to…” He trails off and squeezes Jason’s shoulder. “Now go on. It’s a school night, and I’m sure you have homework.”

“Screw that.”

“You really, _really_ shouldn’t.” Trina’s had enough.

“Stop being ridiculous,” she says, stepping forward. “Jason, you’re doing your homework. Whizzer, you’re taking the spare room.” He opens his mouth. “No, no arguments. I’d never hear the end of it if I let you stay here and you ended up getting bludgeoned to death by some crackhead.”

“Trina…” Trina is a mother. She knows when a boy is looking at something he wants and isn’t allowed to have. The only difference here is that it’s Whizzer, and the asshole’s too stubborn to accept what she’s offering. “I couldn’t impose.”

“Well, you won’t be imposing. In fact, you’d be imposing by _not_ coming with us.” Whizzer seems to struggle for a moment, but then he sighs and props himself up on his elbows.

“Just let me pack a few things,” he says. Jason jumps up.

“I’ll do it!” he says.

“And pack the lot,” Trina says. “I don’t intend to come back here if I can help it.”

* * *

Whizzer’s quiet as they drive back to the Upper East Side, and even Jason’s chatter peters out after about ten minutes. Trina glances in the rearview mirror, a knot of anxiety settling in her chest. Whizzer is clutching his suitcase, looking shell-shocked and horribly young in the half-light of the streetlamps.

Then again, he _is_ young, a decade or so younger than her. That was part of what made it hurt so much when Marvin chose to cheat with him, the fact that he had somehow found a man who was prettier and younger and more feminine than she could ever be. She had been replaced, beaten by a boy at what should have been a woman’s game. But his youth isn’t some Lolita-ish threat anymore. If anything, it just makes him seem more vulnerable.

Whizzer looks exhausted when they finally make it to their front door, leaning on Jason for support. Trina opens the door and is startled when Mendel runs up to her, sliding slightly on the hardwood floor.

“Trina!” he says, hugging her. “Where were you? I was so worried!”

“Mendel…” She trails off. How the hell is she supposed to explain this? Before she can even begin to try, Mendel notices Jason and Whizzer standing in the doorway.

“Oh,” he says. “Hey.” Whizzer glances nervously over at Trina as though looking for instruction.

“Mendel, Whizzer needs a place to stay for now,” Trina says, a slight tremor in her voice. Mendel, thank God, is as unperturbed as ever by this turn.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll, uh, I’ll show you to the guest room then.” He holds out his arm, taking most of Whizzer’s weight, but Jason doesn’t stop holding on to the younger man’s sleeve. They make their slow way up the stairs, and Trina collapses at the kitchen table. To think that only a few hours ago she had thought her life might be normal for once. She looks up when she hears someone clearing their throat. Mendel’s standing in front of her, shifting awkwardly.

“So,” he says, “what happened?” Trina sighs.

“Some assholes beat him up,” she says, choosing not to mention what else they’d done. It seems too much, too personal. She feels dirty just knowing it. “He decided it would be appropriate to call me, of all people.”

“I have a feeling it wasn’t you he was calling.”

“Jason, then, which just makes it worse.” Trina twists her wedding ring. “What are we supposed to do, Mendel? I can’t let him go back to his motel; it’s a shithole. And it’s not as if he’ll be able to be a - a prostitute with his face looking like that.”

“Well, then he’ll have to stay here for now,” Mendel says, as though it’s that easy, that reasonable.

“Are you serious? He’s the one who-”

“Where else does he have to go?” Mendel runs a hand through his hair. It’s getting too long again, another victim of his scatterbrained disorganization. “Look, Trina, I like it about as much as you do, but it’s that or kick him out on the street.” Trina’s stomach clenches at the thought of what Whizzer could face out there. “Didn’t you tell all your friends that they could visit whenever they pleased?”

“Whizzer Brown is not my friend,” she hisses, but she can feel herself relenting. Everything Mendel says is true. If Whizzer is still like he was when she knew him, he wouldn’t have asked for her help until is was literally last resort. She can hardly slam the door in his face now. “Fine. But if you expect me to be nice to him-”

“Trina, come on. You’re the one who brought him here.” Trina lets her head fall into her hands. Mendel begins lightly massaging her shoulders. “Everything will be alright.”

“Mom? Mendel?” She looked up to find Jason hovering awkwardly near the entrance to the kitchen.

“What is it, Jace?” Mendel says.

“Whizzer’s asleep,” he says. He hesitates for a moment. “He - Something really bad happened to him, didn’t it?” Trina sighs. “What did they do to him?”

“I can’t tell you that, Jason,” she says. “It’s private, and I don’t think that Whizzer would want it spread around.”

“He’s my best friend!”

“And if he wants to tell you, he will. Just don’t pressure him. He might be… Things are…” She shakes her head. “Just don’t, alright?”

“Fine,” Jason says. “But I will get the truth eventually.” Trina can only pray that he doesn’t. Jason’s too young to know all the ways the world can be awful.

* * *

She’s washing the breakfast dishes the next morning when she hears him on the stairs. She turns to see Whizzer leaning on the doorframe for support, hair sticking up in all directions. He’s looking around the room as though he can’t quite believe he isn’t in a dream, and it makes her chest ache a little.

“Sit down,” she says. His eyes jerk in her direction.

“Trina-”

“No. Sit. I’ll get you some eggs.” He lowers himself into the chair carefully, jaw clenched. She doesn’t want to think about the reasons why.

“Thank you,” he says. There’s an awkward silence as the eggs crackle in the frying pan. “Where’s Jason?” he says at last.

“He’s at school. It’s Friday, after all.” Whizzer nods.

“Of course,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Of course.” She transfers the eggs from frying pan to plate and sets it in front of him. It takes him a moment to start eating, but when he does he scarfs it down. Trina sits across from him, trying not to stare at the bruises that mottle half his face. He doesn’t look at her again until he’s finished the food on his plate.

“Want more?” she says.

“It’s not necessary.” She gets up and starts more eggs anyways, just for something to do. “Trina, I can’t thank you enough for-”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’ve hurt you so badly, and you-”

“I _said_ not to mention it.” She pokes at the eggs. “Jason would have thrown a fit if we left you there.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“He called you his best friend.”

“He’s evidently a moron.” Whizzer’s tone is all wrong. Everything is so damn wrong.

“Whizzer, about what those - those men did to you-”

“Of course.” Whizzer takes an envelope out of his back pocket, and Trina blinks in confusion. “I hope this is enough.”

“What?”

“For the doctor.” Trina shakes her head.

“Whizzer, that isn’t what this is about.” Now it’s Whizzer’s turn to look confused.

“Then what?”

“I just thought, I don’t know, that you might want to talk about it.”

“Not a fucking chance.” He pushes the envelope towards her. “Take it.”

“No.”

“Please. I know it’s probably not enough, but-”

“She did it pro bono,” Trina says. “And even if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t take your money. Jesus, what kind of an asshole do you think I am?”

“I’m nobody’s _charity case_ , Trina.” His tone is nasty and his jaw is tense with too much stubborn pride for his own good.

“Well, this isn’t charity.”

“What then? What else could it possibly be?” Trina shrugs. She’s not going to pretend that she has an answer.

* * *

The last person that Trina expected to see when she was putting dinner in the oven was Jason.

“Hey, Mom,” he says casually, hanging up his coat.

“Jason, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at your father’s?”

“I called and told him that I was staying over at Ryan Schwarz’s house. Where’s Whizzer?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now you get on that bus or-”

“Jason?” Whizzer says, emerging from the living room. “Is something going on?”

“No. I just didn’t want to go to Dad’s, not when you’re here.” Whizzer crosses his arms.

“I’m flattered,” he says dryly. Jason looks confused.

“Are you mad at me?” he says. “Seriously?”

“I’m not mad,” Whizzer says.

“Well, I am,” Trina snaps. “Really, Jason, you can’t do this. Your father has you on the weekends, and-”

“So? Dad’s a dick.”

“Jason, this isn’t just about you,” Trina says. “If Marvin wants, this could get dragged into court. Do you really want that kind of upheaval in our lives?”

“Come on, Dad’s not going to do that over one night,” Jason scoffs. Whizzer clears his throat and looks at Jason pointedly. “And even if he did, I’d just tell them that I had more important things to do than sit around watching art documentaries. You could say that you didn’t know anything about it, which you _didn’t_ , and-” Jason’s cut off by a loud, angry knocking on the door. Trina sighs. Whizzer, on the other hand, has gone horribly pale.

“Who’s there?” he says to Trina. She rolls her eyes.

“I have a guess.” Her unspoken guess is undoubtedly correct, since the knocking is followed by a bellow.

“Trina, open the damn door! I need to talk to you!” It’s Marvin. Of course it’s Marvin. Trina glares at Jason, who looks unrepentant even though he started this whole mess.

“Trina…” Whizzer says.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll deal with my ex-husband.”

“Thanks,” he whispers, slinking out of the room. Jason tries to follow him.

“Absolutely not. You’re going to Marvin’s once I deal with this, and that’s final.”

“But _Mom_ -”

“No,” Trina says, ignoring the renewed knocking. “I am very disappointed, Jason.” Jason slumps into a chair, crossing his arms with a pout. Trina goes to the front door and steels herself for the argument that’s sure to erupt.

“Trina,” Marvin says when she opens the door, “where the hell is Jason?”

“Hello, Marvin. Nice to see you, too.”

“I’m being serious, Trina. Jason said you gave him permission to go to a friend’s house, and you _know_ that I only get him on the weekends.”

“Oh, I’m doing fine. How have you been?”

“Trina…” he growls. Trina rolls her eyes.

“Jason certainly didn’t get permission from me. He decided that he didn’t want to go to your place this weekend, so he showed up about half an hour ago. He’s in the kitchen.”

“Great,” Marvin says, pushing past her. Trina follows him into the kitchen helplessly. “Just great. My own son hates me so much that he’d rather concoct some stupid lie than spend time with me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jason says from his place at the table. “I would.” Trina could almost feel sorry for Marvin.

“Jason, I am your _father_.”

“So? I’m not obligated to care about you.”

“What the hell happened?” Marvin says, his voice growing louder. “I thought we were getting along! I thought-”

“Well, you were wrong,” Jason says icily, and it’s frightening how easily he identifies all of Marvin’s insecurities.

“WHY YOU LITTLE-” Marvin cuts himself off, staring wide-eyed at the entrance to the kitchen. Trina follows his gaze and sees-

“Whizzer!” Jason says, running over to him. “Why’d you come back in here? I thought…” Whizzer places a hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason falls silent.

“Marvin,” he says, voice carefully measured. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“Jesus, Whiz,” Marvin says, “what did you _do_?” Whizzer flinches, hand floating up to touch the bruised side of his face. Jason, on the other had, looks livid.

“What did he do? What did _he_ do?” Jason looks like he wants to march up and punch his father, but Whizzer’s tightly clenched hand keeps him in place.

“Alright, that came out wrong. What I meant was-”

“Was what, Marvin?” Whizzer says in little more than a whisper. “What the hell else could you possibly mean?”

“I just wanted to know how you got yourself into... that.”

“Oh, yes, because obviously I was _asking_ for some assholes to decide on me when they wanted to go beat up a queer.”

“Well, if you weren’t so-”

“What the fuck, Dad?” Jason yells. “If he wasn’t - Whizzer didn’t - This is your fault!” Trina gasps. Suddenly Jason’s behavior since he came home from school makes a ridiculous sort of sense.

“What did you just say to me?” Marvin growls.

“Yeah, you heard me right,” Jason says. “This is _your_ fault. If you hadn’t kicked him out, Whizzer wouldn’t’ve needed to be out there, and then he would’ve never gotten hurt.”

“Jason-” Whizzer says nervously.

“How the hell is this my fault?” Marvin snaps. He steps forward, and for a moment Trina thinks he’s going to hit her son like he’d hit her. Whizzer flings out an arm, practically throwing himself between Marvin and Jason.

Trina’s breath catches in her throat. She can’t tell if the move is deliberate or pure instinct, but it really doesn’t matter. She’s never imagined that someone could look as pale and frightened as Whizzer does at this moment. If it’s deliberate, then Whizzer’s made the conscious decision to put himself between danger and Jason. If it’s instinct, then something in the man’s core screams out to protect her son in spite of all self-preservation.

He reminds her of Mendel, standing up to Marvin when the asshole had come to bitch about her getting remarried. The only difference is that Whizzer has more reasons to stand aside and fewer reasons to stay.

“Get out, Marvin,” she says. Marvin, Jason, and Whizzer all stare at her with various degrees of shock and pissiness.

“Excuse me?” Marvin says, affronted.

“I said get out, Marvin,” Trina says louder, finding her voice. “I don’t think anything you say will convince Jason to go with you this weekend. We’ll just - We’ll try again next weekend, but you’re going to have to give the mother of all apologies. Maybe spend the next two days thinking _that_ over instead of moping around and acting the victim.”

“What the hell, Trina? He’s my _son_. I have the right to-”

“No, no you don’t. You’re a terrible father and an even worse ex. Marvin,” Trina takes a deep breath, “I thought you’d changed, but I can see now that you’re just as self-centered and small-minded as ever.” Marvin glances from Whizzer, who’s still standing protectively in front of Jason, to Trina.

“I have changed,” he almost begs. “I will change.”

“Prove it,” Trina says. “Leave.” Marvin obeys.

* * *

Later that evening, Jason convinces Whizzer to play chess with him in the den. Trina doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she can’t help but linger when she overhears what they’re talking about.

“It’s not Marvin’s fault, you know,” Whizzer says to Jason. “What happened to me, I mean.”

“It kind of is.”

“Jason…”

“He was the one who kicked you out. He knew what was going to happen to you, but he did it anyways.” Jason slams down his rook. “I hate him. He’s an asshole.”

“There is no way that Marvin knew I was going to get beat up by some homophobes.”

“You know what I mean,” Jason says. Whizzer sighs.

“Look, I just… I don’t want you to push him away because of this. He’s your father, and I know he loves you.”

“You’re better.” Whizzer snorts and shakes his head, but Trina can see the softness in his expression.

“Just try, alright,” he says.

“Not until he apologizes to you,” Jason says stubbornly.

“He had every right to-”

“He can’t break up with you and then act like every bad thing that happens to you is your own fault.” Jason fiddles with one of his pawns. “Whizzer, what really happened? I mean, I know they beat you up, but… there’s gotta be more. And I know that Mom knows and Dr. Charlotte knows and so I want to know, too.” Whizzer sighs, and Trina waits for his response with baited breath.

“It’s not that easy, kiddo,” he says at last.

“Why not? You told-”

“I told Dr. Charlotte because she needed to know. She told your mother for, well, reasons.”

“So why won’t you tell me?”

“Jason, what happened was… It’s not easy to talk about. I’m not sure I… Plus, you’re young. You’re way too young to have to deal with my bullshit.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“You’re eleven. Fuck, when I was eleven, I-” Whizzer rubs his eyes. “I’ll tell you someday, I promise. I just - I can’t yet, kiddo, okay?” Jason’s quiet for a moment, then he gets up and hugs Whizzer. Whizzer’s hands spasm on Jason’s back, like he wants to pull the boy closer but can’t let himself.

“Okay,” Jason says. “Just promise not to leave again.”

“Jason…”

“I don’t want you to leave and get hurt again.”

“I’ll - I’ll do my best.” Jason nods and starts to leave the room. Trina squirms guiltily as he brushes past her, but Jason doesn’t seem mad that she was obviously eavesdropping.

“Don’t kick Whizzer out,” he tells her. Trina sighs.

“He can’t stay here forever.”

“If you kick him out, he’ll just get hurt again.”

“Sweetheart-”

“ _Please_.”

“Jason, I know you… care for Whizzer, but-” Jason glares at her. “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

“Whizzer’s always telling me not to worry about him, and look how well that turned out,” Jason says, storming off to his room. Trina sighs again and enters the den, knocking on the doorframe. Whizzer instantly straightens up, only to relax when he sees that it’s her.

“Hey,” she says. He gives her a paper-thin grin. “I, um, I overheard you and Jason talking.”

“Shit,” Whizzer says.

“I’m not mad.” She has no idea what she would have been mad about, but the words seem to reassure him. “I… Do you really think that Jason should try to forgive Marvin?”

“Well, forgive is a strong word,” Whizzer says, “but Jason’s stuck with Marvin on weekends whether he likes it or not. There’s no point in making his life more miserable than it has to be. Besides, Marvin… well, he may have a talent for saying and doing the absolute worst thing in any given situation, but he isn’t… I don’t know.”

“The way he kicked you out, some of the things he said earlier,” Trina pauses, “that’s pretty damn unforgivable.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Whizzer-”

“I really, _really_ don’t want to discuss this right now.”

“Well, I think you should. Dr. Charlotte,” Whizzer snorts, “Dr. Charlotte said that it’s going to hit you sooner or later.”

“What the hell does she know about it?”

“Whizzer…” She reaches out and squeezes his hand. A tremor runs through him, and he looks at the floor. “I know I’m about the last person who you’d choose to - to know this, but-”

“You’re not,” he says. “That honor goes to Marvin. Or maybe Yohannes - who is definitely going to be pissed when I finally call him. I should probably do that, actually. I should-” He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit, the point is that this isn’t about you. This is about the fact that I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Trina, do you have any idea how many men I’ve slept with?” Trina shakes her head. “Hundreds. Literally hundreds, and most of those were as a hooker.”

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes a hell of a lot. Look, I’m not like you. The overwhelming majority of the guys I’ve been with have ranged from mediocre to just fucking awful. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. When the clients are respectful it’s pretty much just a job. But sometimes… well, the point is that I know how to deal with - with doing things that I don’t necessarily want to do. This time was definitely the worst, but… well, it’s not new. I can handle it.” Trina squeezes his hand, wishing she knew the right words to say.

“But you don’t need to handle it alone,” she says. Whizzer looks down at their hands and squeezes back lightly.

“I’ll be okay,” he says. “I just - I just need a little time.”

“You can depend on me,” Trina says. “You know that, right?” Whizzer nods, and at that moment it finally feels like they’ve reached an understanding.

* * *

Trina hesitates outside the door to Marvin’s apartment. She glances around, vaguely wondering which of the apartments next to his hold Dr. Charlotte and her girlfriend. This is about the last place she wants to be on a Thursday evening, but she had told Whizzer that he could depend on her, and she intends to hold herself to that.

“He needs to know what happened. All of it,” Whizzer had told her seriously while helping her wash the dishes last night. “I know he’ll start trying to get back together once he’s had a chance to cool down, and he needs to know why that isn’t going to happen.”

“If it’s not going to happen, why does he need to know?”

“Because the reason it’s not going to happen is because I won’t be able to deal with his sex drive,” Whizzer had said bluntly, as though he could lessen the impact of what happened if he spat it far enough away from himself. Trina had paused in her work.

“I’ll tell him,” she had said, but privately she had resolved to put her own spin on things. Whizzer deserves more than what he’s giving himself.

She finally bites the bullet and knocks on her ex-husband’s door.

“Trina?” Marvin says. Trina takes a deep breath.

“Marvin,” she says, “can I come in? We have a few things we need to discuss.”

“Sure,” Marvin says. He gestures toward the couch, but Trina chooses the armchair instead. “What’s this about? Is Jason…?”

“Jason is still pissed as hell,” Trina says, “and I expect he will be for a while.” Marvin winces.

“I know,” he says. “God, I’ve messed this up. I didn’t even know that he cared about Whizzer.” Neither had Trina, but she’s not about to admit that to _him_.

“Is that really the only reason you regret what you said?”

“No! No, of course not. I just-” Marvin runs a hand over his face, and Trina can tell that he’s being sincere. Good. If he hadn’t been, she would have left and told Whizzer to forget the asshole. “God, I really pulled a doozy, didn’t I? I just - I was so mad at Jason, and then _Whizzer_ was there and I’d missed him so damn much but he was _hurt_ and I-”

“And you decided that implying he’d brought it upon himself was the best option,” Trina says dryly. Marvin hangs his head. “Now, listen to me, Marvin. God knows why, but Whizzer seems to be willing to give you a second chance. Not getting back together with you immediately, mind you, but-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Marvin says.

“Don’t interrupt. There’s something he thinks you need to know first, even though I think it’s none of your goddamn business.” Trina pauses, searching for a polite way to phrase this, but there’s no way to make it easier, more palatable. It would be dishonest to even try. “Marvin, he wasn’t just beat up. They raped him, too.” A horrified silence stretches between them.

“What?” Marvin says.

“They raped him. He’s - He’s trying to deal with it, mostly by ignoring that the problem exists, but I can tell how much he’s hurting.”

“I - Jesus Christ.” Marvin runs a hand through his hair. “Why would they do that? Why would they do that to _Whizzer_?”

“Because he’s gay. Because he was convenient. Because they’re bastards who wanted to feel powerful.” Trina can feel her anger rising, anger toward the assholes who hurt Whizzer and toward Marvin and toward the whole damn situation. “And you made it worse. He took the risk of seeing you again, and you fucking made it worse.”

“Oh my God,” Marvin says. He puts a hand over his mouth, and for a moment Trina thinks he going to throw up. “Oh my God, I have to - I have to apologize to him. I have to make this right. I didn’t mean - I’d _never_ mean-”

“I know,” Trina says, trying not to sound bitter. “I know, but you dealt the damage regardless. And there’s more.”

“How could there possibly be more?”

“Marvin, do you want to get back together with him?” Marvin hesitates, probably sensing that Trina won’t be happy with his inevitable answer.

“Yes,” he says at last, “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about. A lot. Basically constantly since last Friday, actually.”

“I’m not going to stop you,” Trina says. “Heaven knows that I don’t think it’s a good idea, but Whizzer seems willing to listen. However, one of the reasons he told me to give you the full story is because he, well, he’s worried about your relationship.”

“It’ll be better than before,” Marvin says quickly. Trina shakes her head.

“He’s worried about the sexual element of your relationship.” Maybe if she keeps this as clinical as possible she’ll be able to get through without blushing like a moron. “He - Marvin, he was raped.”

“I know. You said.”

“He might - He might not-” Marvin nods, and for the first time in all the years she’s known him Trina sees tears in her ex-husband’s eyes. She reaches across the coffee table to squeeze his hand, wishing she knew what else to do. “Just don’t fuck this up,” she says quietly. “I’m serious, Marvin. If you hurt him again, intentionally or unintentionally, I will come after you.”

“I know,” Marvin says. “I’ll do it right this time. I promise.”

* * *

Trina doesn’t get to hear Whizzer and Marvin’s conversation the next evening. Part of her had wanted to stay in the room, if only to kick Marvin out if he messed this up _again_ , but Whizzer had quietly asked for her to leave so she’d left. She’d left, and now she’s sitting in her favorite armchair, staring at the same page of the romance novel she’d abandoned a little over a week before.

Whizzer emerges from the den and gives her a shaky grin. “Well?” she says.

“You should send Jason in. He deserves an apology as well.”

“Never mind that. Did Marvin…?” Whizzer sighs.

“We’ll see,” he says. “He’s all for jumping straight back into it, but I… well, I need to get my feet back under me. Find a new place to live, find some regular clients.”

“You could stay.” Whizzer shakes his head, and she grabs his arm. “No, listen to me. Jason loves you, and Mendel wouldn’t mind. You wouldn’t have to go back to - to _that_.”

“Trina…” He looks tempted, so damn tempted, but Trina can tell that she’s already lost. “I won’t be disappearing or anything. I’ll still be, you know, around. In contact. But this can’t be like before. I can’t move in with someone and then find myself dependant on their whims.”

“I’m not Marvin.”

“I know that. God, I know that, I just - I can’t. I can’t make the same damn mistakes.” Trina presses her lips together, but she knows that nothing she can say will change Whizzer’s mind once it’s been made up. Part of her wishes that she could be happy about this, that she could still hate him.

“I understand,” she says. “But you _will_ be accepting my invitations to dinner.” Whizzer laughs.

“Eating something more complicated than pasta? I wouldn’t miss it.” Trina studies him carefully. The bruising on his face has faded from deep purple to a sickly sort of green. More importantly, he looks - not happy, he’s been too hurt for that. But he does seem a little more open, a little closer to content.

“I’ll be holding you to that,” she says. “Now, let’s go see if we can convince Jason to give Marvin the chance to fix his mistakes.” Whizzer rolls his eyes.

"Now that would really be a miracle," he says.


End file.
